Five Christmases
by Busman's Holiday
Summary: Five years Stendan of future Christmases. Festive fluff featuring all the traditions you'd expect at Christmas: Ste decorates, Christmas jumpers, snow causes problems, turkey disaster, nativity play and of course, mistletoe. Enjoy!


_A/N: I'm feeling pretty festive already so this is pretty much a result of that. All future fic set over five different years at Christmas time. Mostly shameless fluff and I hope you enjoy. And if it's not too early to say so: Merry Christmas!_

Five Christmases

_**2013 - Decorations**_

"Taa-dah!" Ste said, voice in sing-song, as Brendan walked in through the door. Ste's face was aglow with pride (and a smidgen of stray glitter), arms outstretched as he displayed his handiwork. Brendan shrugged off his jacket, hooking it onto the peg as he glanced round the room.

The living room was a mish-mash of shop bought and homemade Christmas decorations strewn, flung, dangled and balanced over every spare bit of surface. Colours clashed, lit-up characters sang and danced, inflatable reindeer - looking ready to burst - hung from the ceiling, and paper-chains with still-wet glitter pen scribblings looped around the staircase. It was like Santa's grotto on crack.

Ste had a massive grin on his face and purple tinsel scarf-like around his neck. He hopped off the sofa, where he was making a wobbly job of blue-tacking up some Christmas cards. "I know how much you love your Christmas decorations, so I thought I'd surprise ya!"

Brendan gave a weak smile and nodded around the room. "You've gone for the multi-coloured lights on the tree…interesting choice and the blue…blue tinsel too. You couldn't find the silver? And the baubles taped to the kitchen counters. I mean, I always imagined the snowflakes for the kitchen, but…" He laughed a little, uneasily. "They had labels on the boxes did they? Where you found the decorations – a box saying 'kitchen', a box saying 'tree'?"

"I 'fort it'd be nice to mix it up for a change," Ste said, quickly side-stepping to stop Rockin' Santa from falling off the fireplace.

"No…yep…yep, I can see that."

Ste picked up on the stilted tone in Brendan's voice and the way he rubbed at his head. He pouted. "You don't like it? It's too much innt? I didn't even use the feather boas or me glittery snow in a can,"

"Steven," Brendan began, clutching his tinsel scarf and pulling him closer. He brushed the glitter from Ste's cheek. "It's Christmas. It's never too much."

"Well what's your problem then? I spent all day doing this for you!" Ste said, with a scowl of a stroppy teenager on his face.

Brendan rocked a little on his feet, looking over Ste's shoulder into the distance and at his chaotic festive spirit. He admired the effort, the explosion of tacky Christmas spirit, even the flashing penguin statues, which he wouldn't usually let anywhere near his perfect constructed displays and colour schemes, didn't seem too horrific. He couldn't deny Steven the satisfaction of his achievement, even though when he had the chance, he'd slowly make adjustments until he was happy with it himself. _He_ decorated the house for Christmas. No one else got to touch the tinsel. It was an art form and one he was very particular about. Steven hadn't even saved him the fairy to put on top of the tree.

But (and this was a learning curve that he had been getting used to ever since that blissful reunion a year ago) he packed his childish disappointment away and drew Ste close by the soft ends of tinsel.

"Nothing. It's perfect," he said, kissing Ste on the mouth, "Thank you."

Ste reached up, running his fingers through the freshly cut hair at the back of Brendan's head. "You wanna swap the blue tinsel on the tree for silver?" Ste smiled with a soft realisation.

"No. No. The blue's fine." He kissed him again, Ste's lips warm and dry from the central heating. He allowed himself a little more honesty, "Yeah, maybe later."

_**2014 – Jumper**_

He hadn't even got his jeans over his hips before he was being pulled down onto the bed again. Brendan was shushing his laughter with his mouth pressed against him.

"Brendan!" he said, pleading, "The kids will be up wanting their presents any minute,"

He attempted to keep his voice as quiet as possible, a task that proved difficult with Brendan kneeling back and pulling him free of his trousers and underwear. He looked at the alarm clock. There was no way the kids could contain their excitement any longer than seventy thirty, meaning Brendan had ten minutes to work his magic.

"You are not wearing this," Brendan said, smoothing his hands around Ste's belly, the fine hairs fluffing against his palms. Ste pulled at the item in question, a garish red reindeer jumper.

"What's wrong with it?" Ste asked as it was pushed up over his chest, leaving its googly eyes to leer at Brendan as he latched tongue and teeth onto Ste's nipples.

"Present from your ex-husband? Nothing quite says Douglas like some fucking awful knitwear," Brendan said, giving an eye roll of lingering resentment. He licked his palm and slipped his hand between Ste's legs for a frantic grip on his cock.

"I chose it myself," Ste said between groans that he tried to muffle with his mouth against the pillow, head to one side. "It's cute,"

Brendan folded up the wool so he wasn't forced to look into Rudolph's judgemental gaze and worked Ste's dick into a fierce rhythm, using his free hand to press a cum-slicked finger inside Ste. He laughed throatily into Ste's ear as he heard him say _fuck_ over and over until it was just a blur of noise.

"It's hideous. Not cute," he said, lowering his voice so he was only half sure Ste could hear, "Cute is when you're all puppy-eyed with cum on your lips,"

Ste flushed more, gawping at Brendan before creasing with light-headed laughter. He watched Brendan clean up as he lolled around on the bed, smoothing down his Christmas jumper and wriggling his pants back on.

"You think this jumper is bad, wait til you see what the kids have bought you!" Ste grinned, watching Brendan's face morph into abject horror.

_**2015 – Snow**_

Flights had been cancelled.

Brendan sat in a dusted off garden lounger on their apartment balcony in the snow, it'd be just below his knees if he sunk right into it. He sat with a tumbler of whiskey and the phone still warm in his hand from his apologetic Christmas greeting with the boys.

Since the snowstorm of three days ago preventing their planned trip to spend Christmas in Ireland, he'd let the dark mood envelope him, shutting Steven out in the process, something which he always tried desperately hard not to do. He'd spent so long trying to repair the damage of his poor parenting and wanted to spoil the boys to a Christmas they deserved. Once again it felt like he was letting them down when it mattered the most.

He'd wallowed, sent Ste out with his own kids in the snow, knowing their shrieks of joy would just make him miss Dec and Paddy more, even if they were too old for snowmen and tobogganing now.

He heard the slide of the French doors and drained the last of his glass.

"Freezing out here," Ste said, exaggerating a shiver.

"Don't stay out on my account," Brendan said.

"How are the boys?" Ste asked, perching on the end of the sun lounger, between Brendan's knees.

"Waiting for their turkey. Fighting over a console,"

"Like normal then!" Ste tried to laugh a little. "Our turkey'll be ready soon. It's smelling good,"

Ste felt Brendan's hands run up his back and then along his shoulders.

Ste took Brendan's arms and wrapped them around himself. "I know this isn't the Christmas you wanted and I know you miss them…"

"Don't. It's bad enough we can't be there, without you pitying me. You're not the one with kids who barely know you, with sons that couldn't care less you're stuck across the ocean," Brendan said growing colder and flinching away from Ste.

Ste stood up and went inside.

_**2015 – Turkey**_

"Look we can save it," Brendan said, jabbing at the dry turkey with a fork, "Bit of gravy, you'll never know,"

"_I'll_ know. It's fucking ruined. Don't bother, just get rid of it," Ste said, throwing the oven gloves on the floor.

"Steven, you've suffered through Double B style cremation of food, a bit of dry turkey ain't gonna kill you,"

"That's not the point! I wanted to do something nice," Ste said, knuckles white as he placed turkey-free plates of food on the table.

"This is nice! It's all nice. This whole mess is my fault, so will you please sit down and eat."

There were long bouts of silence, save the unfortunate sounds of chewing through tough meat punctuated by Brendan's over the top sounds of approval.

Their argument had lasted long after the proposed lunch time of two-thirty, leaving dark brown potatoes and mushy Brussels and the infamously dry turkey. They'd both sworn and reignited old feuds and bitterness and dragged exes and past Christmas bickerings into the melting pot of an argument started because of a snowstorm. And in the anger, Ste had thrown an unopened gift at Brendan - a framed photo of his boys, a new photo Ste had begged Declan to take and send – and Brendan had been so touched, that despite the lonely, disappointed ache inside him, launched himself at Ste for a kiss.

And then they were tearing at each other's clothes, grappling until they reached the living room sofa.

That was until the smoke alarm cut through their passion.

Ste was laughing a little, through tears, as he put down his cutlery. "It's horrible, you don't have to pretend,"

Brendan reached over, thumbed away a loose tear and gripped his hand. "It's my punishment for being such a dick these last few days,"

He bared his teeth in a grin.

"Besides, have you met my ex-wife? This is a culinary delight compared to her Christmas dinner."

Ste laughed a little, wiped his eyes and straightened up. "Look, about Ireland. Why don't we go at New Years, surprise 'em? They're teenagers, they'll probably enjoy it more anyway,"

Brendan groaned, dunking a charred Pig-in-Blanket in gravy. "I hate New Years,"

"I thought you decided after last year you liked it," Ste said, a glinted in his eye as he mixed cranberry sauce into the gravy, in what he used to tell the kids was "messing" with their food.

Brendan grunted a sound of approval with his mouth full. "Hotel king size, Big Ben counting us down? It's hard to beat Steven,"

"I'll never hear Old Lang Sign in the same way now," Ste said with a grin.

_Auld Lang Syne_, Brendan thought, but didn't correct him.

_**2019 – Nativity**_

"Will you stop saying _Jesus_ like that? It's properly offensive… or something," Ste whispered, nudging Brendan in the ribs.

"That's only in church, Steven," Brendan said, "But you've got to admit, that girl playing Mary can't sing for shit,"

Ste was sniggering moments before Mary unceremoniously dropped the Baby Jesus into the manger and he was given a glare by one of the other parents. Of course, his whooping and hollering when Lucas confidently began his reading as Narrator Number Five, didn't go down too well with the other parents either, but as he watched proudly on, catching his son's eye, he couldn't care less. Lucas had excelled through his primary school and now in his last year, months away from joining high school, Ste had a hard time believing they were actually related.

"He's a credit to ya, Steven," Brendan had said into his ear after the end of nativity applause had died down and the headteacher was speaking.

Once the speech was over, the children flooded out to be greeted and congratulated by their parents and all the families headed for the school-provided mince pies and drinks. Although the pair of them stuck out, Ste could still scarcely believe Brendan was actually attending. He had of course made a hundred excuses not to come and sat through the whole evening clock-watching, but in the end all it had taken for him to agree to it, was Lucas asking.

"Let's get out of here. That woman keeps giving me a look," said Brendan, getting a little twitchy.

Just as he was about to suggest Brendan to go and wait in the car, Lucas came running out, post-production adrenaline making him more excitable than usual. Amy and Leah had warned Ste of it when they'd watched the nativity the night before, Leah describing her brother as a "diva". Ste had always been slightly smug that he son was one of the most popular boys at school and Lucas, who was too cool for hugs these days, offered him a high five when he appeared.

"I'm dead proud," Ste said, ruffling Lucas's hair a little. He whined, pulling away and restyled his hair.

"Whadda say Luko – Chinese for tea?" Brendan said trying to steer them out of the hall.

"Mulled wine boys?" interrupted a plump teacher by the door, grinning widely at them.

"We're leaving," Brendan said, characteristically gruffly and turning his back on her.

"Sweet and sour?" Lucas asked.

"As much as your gut can handle,"

"Yesss!" Lucas said with an added fist pump.

"If only your dad was so easily pleased," Brendan said dryly, waiting for Ste's eye roll.

He waited until Ste and Lucas were headed out the door before dashing back to the refreshments table, nudging a few disgruntled parents out the way and commandeering a plate of mince pies for himself.

"S'good pastry!" he said on leaving, to a group of horrified parents, spraying crumbs.

_**2020 – Mistletoe**_

Ste's eyes followed the direction of Brendan's point, up the door frame and down in the doorway where the mistletoe, which had seen better days, hung limply above their heads.

"Really?" Ste said. He held a goofy grin, one that made his nose scrunch and his cheeks grow rounder.

"'Fraid so. Christmas law," Brendan replied.

Ste rocked forward, stretching up on his toes and sliding his hands up from their position on Brendan's chest, one on Brendan's cheek – thumb spanning his greying stubble – and the other on the warmth of his neck. He tasted of Christmas: warm and sweet and comforting. He let Ste lead for a moment, murmuring appreciatively as he sucked at his tongue and then edging Ste to the door frame, pushed him against it and took control. Ste yielded hungrily, looping arms and legs around Brendan as his mouth opened, a slow slide of tongues together.

It was Christmas Eve and he wasn't wishing away the hours until morning, he was impossibly happy here and now.


End file.
